I noticed a random tweet in my stream yesterday – Something about a young BC woman who ‘dies for over one & a half hours’ and ‘comes back to tell the tale’. My first thought is that this is another hoax story, but I’m intrigued so I click on the link.
The link brings me to an article in the Ottawa Citizen about Chelsie Thurlow. I strongly recommend you read the article but long story short, her heard failed and doctors performed CPR for over 100 minutes before they were able to hook her up to a machine that would pump her heart for her, followed by the insertion of medical device designed for that purpose. Miraculously, she survived. Not only did she survive, but she regained full neurological function. WOW.
She recalls how she saw the doctors wheel her into the ambulance, how her mother’s voice brought her back from the warm an cozy place she was in. How amazed she is that her 4 month old daughter still has a mother.
I may have shed a tear or two. I may have been brought back to my childhood.
See, I had a terrible fear of dying in my sleep. I would pray at night – but I knew you had to be careful what you wish for so I was always extra-specific:
Dear God and the Angels above,
Please help me sleep tonight and watch over me. Please make sure that I wake up in the morning in this lifetime, this reality, this planet, this home, this family, this body. Thank you. Amen
My earliest memory of saying this prayer? I was five. I was in my early twenties when I first stopped reciting my request at bedtime. A few weeks would go by and I’d notice I hadn’t said it in a while and would recite it then & there.
I was 28 when I stopped confirming to my mom: ‘See you / talk to you tomorrow’. I figured if I said it it was real. That was my personal guarantee that both of us would survive the night and wake up safe & sound.
Where this fear comes from? I have no idea! I’m no longer afraid of death – or rather, I’m no longer neurotic about it. I will say one thing though – and I’ve said this for as long as I can remember:
If anything ever happens to me – anything at all – don’t you dare give up on me. Don’t you DARE pull the plug. Don’t you DARE think of not trying everything. Because I WILL find a way to come back. I know this. I don’t know how I know this, I just do. I don’t care if it takes me 100 minutes or 50 years – I will find my way back.
So don’t you DARE give up on me!